


Meteorite

by Hllangel



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: 2018-2019 Season, Auston has the least amount of chill, Auston is a brat, Canon Compliant, Canon Injuries, First Time, Freddie loves him anyway, Getting Together, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-25
Updated: 2018-12-25
Packaged: 2019-09-26 17:51:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,398
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17146310
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hllangel/pseuds/Hllangel
Summary: Auston is injured, and also bored to death.





	Meteorite

**Author's Note:**

  * For [deepbutdazzlingdarkness](https://archiveofourown.org/users/deepbutdazzlingdarkness/gifts).



> I hope you enjoy this, deepbutdazzlingdarkness! I tried to encorporate a few of your asks, including Auston with Zero Chill, Friends to lovers, and mentions of Freddie's size. 
> 
> Thank you to S, who held my hands as I tried to figure out where the hell this thing was going. Thank you to A for the beta and for saving me from myself in a few places.

Auston fucking _hates_ being injured. Fucking Jets. He hates that he goes out in the second, which means there's half a hockey game left that he's not playing, plus however long it takes him to heal his stupid fucking shoulder again. His shooting arm. 

He's never going to forgive Troubs. 

Well, until they land on an international team together, probably. 

He really should have gone home after they did his initial evaluation. Babs won't put him up for media since he's injured, and there's nothing the trainers can tell him tonight other than that he doesn't need to go to the hospital. It's orders to ice and report back in the morning. And going home on his own is boring, especially when just getting a gatorade out of the fridge fucking _hurts_. 

So he waits in the lounge, ice strapped to his back, and watches the rest of the game. 

At least the team pulls out a win, in the end. He left the ice at 0-2. 

He's still in a pretty bad mood when the players start trickling through on their way to cool down and stretch out from the game. 

Auston still holds out his fist for everyone who passes because he's a team player like that. Freddie's one of the last to come through, since his gear takes longer to remove. He bumps Auston's fist and then looms over him instead of continuing on to roll and stretch out. 

"You good?" he asks. 

"Fuck off," Auston says. He slumps farther down and looks up at Freddie's face. He's obviously showered, but his hair is still damp and a bit wild. His shirt is clean and dry, but it's sticking to odd places on his chest. He looks like a hockey player after a game, something Auston is way too familiar with, so he's not quite sure why he's cataloguing every spot where Freddie's shirt is stretched too tight. 

Freddie stares him down, and Auston's never going to win when he does that. 

"Don't know how bad it is, they want me back in the morning for an eval," he says. He stands up, careful to keep his shoulder as still as possible, but he can't help the gasp that escapes when the muscle twinges. He shuts his eye against the pain, breathing through it and then opens them again only to find that Freddie is standing way too close, and Auston's staring at his neck. He has to tilt his head back to meet Freddie's eyes. 

"You coming to mine?" Freddie asks. 

"You cool?" 

Freddie nods. "Thirty minutes."

***

They’ve got this injury thing down.

Unfortunately. 

Freddie drives, Auston sits in the passenger seat trying to get comfortable with a block of ice strapped to his back in late October in Toronto, and Auston picks the music. He’s pissed about his shoulder coming the fuck apart, pissed about Trouba ramming him into the goalpost in the first place, so he puts on his angry playlist and cranks up the volume. 

Two minutes later, Freddie turns the volume down a few notches, but lets Auston keep the music, so he considers it a win. 

Freddie cooks a quick pasta and chicken dinner for both of them, which they eat in front of TSN, watching game highlights, and Auston kicks at Freddie’s foot when they show his spectacular save against Ehlers’s breakaway. Auston’s fucked up his good shoulder this time, so his help with dishes is minimal, but Freddie doesn’t seem to mind, just goes about cleaning up his kitchen like the actual adult that he is. 

When it’s time for bed, Freddie disappears into his own room and comes back with a pair of sweats and a shirt for Auston to wear, and then takes the mostly melted ice pack and slings it into the freezer. Auston’s got a toothbrush here already. He just needs to steal some of Freddie’s toothpaste, which he does; he takes the clothes Freddie hands him and dumps them on the guest bed, then wanders into Freddie’s room just in time for him to pull his t-shirt off over his head. 

Auston gives him an exaggerated leer when he doesn’t put on a sleep shirt right away, watches for Freddie to have no reaction, as usual, and continues on his way into Freddie’s bathroom, where he sticks around and brushes his teeth since he really has nothing better to do. Freddie elbows him out of the way (gently, and on the non-injured side, because Freddie is still the most considerate person Auston’s ever met) so he can brush his own teeth, and Auston flashes him a foamy smile before spitting a good chunk of it into the sink. 

He hates that they have an actual routine for when one (or both) of them is injured, but all in all, it’s not a bad one, really. 

Auston hip-checks Freddie out of the way when he leaves the room, leaving his toothbrush behind. It’ll be back in the guest room in the morning when he wakes up, and they’ll start the whole thing over again.

*** 

In the morning Freddie makes protein shakes and scrambled eggs for both of them, along with coffee from his stupid complicated machine that somehow makes the best coffee Auston's found in Toronto.

He dicks around with his phone on Freddie's couch for a while, taking over the TV and playing a few rounds of Fortnite. He dies quickly both times because he's not really paying much attention to the game, just eating time. 

"You ever going to leave?" Freddie asks after Auston switches up his first icepack of the day for a heating pad. He didn't even have to ask. He knows where Freddie keeps it. 

Auston shrugs, then looks at his watch. "Fuck, yeah, I gotta go. I'll call an Uber."

*** 

He should go home after they tell him he's going to miss four weeks, but his condo is empty and he can't even count on Mitch to come over now that he's finally moved out of his parents' house and into a shiny new place with Steph.

Instead he goes back to Freddie's. 

"Don't you have your own place?" Freddie asks when he sees who's on his doorstep. 

"I left my toothbrush," Auston says. Which is true. He steps inside, crowding Freddie who doesn't move until Auston's fully inside and the door's closed behind him. 

He watches Auston shuck his shoes off and kick them over by the rack that's meant to be for visitors. 

"That bad?"

"Four weeks," Auston says. 

"Go home," Freddie says. "I still have to play and you're an asshole when you're hurt." 

"You have the day off," Auston counters. He knows the schedule as well as Fred does, since they play for the same team. And as much as Freddie might bitch, he's literally never kicked Auston out before. 

"Exactly, I have shit to do." 

It's not until then that Auston realizes that Freddie's actually in jeans and holding his keys. Fine, he'll go home. He slips his shoes back on and follows Freddie out the door. 

"Later," he half-waves at Freddie as he heads for the street. 

Maybe he'll go find Mitch after all.

*** 

The first week is the worst. Auston's banned from doing anything that might strain it, including skating, working out (legs only, he promised. Their trainers shut that down, _fast_ ), and driving.

It's bullshit, and Auston fumes from the back seat of his Uber, and then pulls up the Amazon app. His cart is over $300 American dollars by the time the car pulls up at Freddie's. 

Freddie answers the door and Auston shoves his way in, leaving his shopping for later now that he has Freddie here to keep him busy. 

"Don't you have your own place?" Freddie goes back to stretching out on his living room floor like Auston isn't even there, his shorts riding up his thighs in a way that Auston wouldn't even think about if they were at Scotiabank arena. "I have a game tonight." 

"I know," Auston says. He settles in on the couch anyway and picks up the remote as Freddie continues his stretching. 

Auston fidgets and channel surfs until Freddie stands up and literally takes the remote from him and puts on Blue Planet. And like, the oceans are cool and all, but it's fucking boring. 

"Let's get lunch," Auston says, desperate to do anything other than sit here. 

"I'm watching this," Freddie says. 

Auston goes to get the heat pack and settles in, pulling up instagram and not bothering to turn the volume on his phone down. It earns him a glare at every particularly loud story. Auston shifts and spreads out more, getting comfortable.

*** 

Auston watches from the press box as they lose to the Flames, and then the Stars. It sucks, just watching.

It also sucks that Freddie kicks him out as soon as he shows up the morning after each game. To be fair, one of those is a travel day, but only one of them. With the team in Pittsburgh for two nights, Auston adds more stuff to his Amazon cart, reads through all of his insta DMs, and watches half a season of The Office. 

The game turns into a shutout for Freddie, which has Auston grinning and reaching for his phone so he can send a million obnoxious memes to Freddie before he has time to sit down and look. He also texts Mo, asking him why he couldn't close out the hatty. 

By the time Freddie texts back, Auston is in bed dicking around on instagram again, sending Mitch some of the stupidest DMs for him to rate. His count of terrible attempts at sexy hockey puns is reaching double digits when he gets a text from Freddie and abandons the endeavor. 

Bored? Is what Freddie's text says. 

Okay, maybe Auston had texted a few (dozen) too many dumb memes, but he knows exactly what Freddie's face looked like when he saw his phone and saw the pile of messages, and he likes that. Likes when he can crack through the goalie-calm. 

_Its a sizzling saturday night in the 6ix_ , Auston says. _I'm drowning in dimes. Can't choose._

_So why are you texting me instead of getting laid?_

_They didn't get a shutout tonight,_ Auston says. 

There's a few minutes before Freddie replies, and Auston goes back to his DMs and his conversation with Mitch.

 _Well go bother your tens those of us who got a shutout tonight need to sleep_ , Freddie finally sends back. 

Auston can't parse what sort of mood he's in by text. Granted, it's not all that much easier when he _can_ see Freddie's face, but Auston still feels better about it. He leaves Freddie to his plane nap and makes plans.

*** 

It's later than Auston had planned by the time he gets out of bed and gets dressed, but it's still morning enough for what he wants to do. He swings by Starbucks and picks up two coffees and drives over to Freddie's. He just got a shutout, and Auston's going to bring him shutout coffee and then take him to shutout brunch.

When Freddie answers the door, he’s still in his pajamas, rumpled and sleepy, and he takes his coffee without a word. Freddie doesn’t invite him in, but Auston follows him inside anyway, settling in on the couch and waiting for Freddie to wake up enough to talk. When he sets his phone down, Auston knows it’s time, so he stretches out and pokes Freddie’s thigh. 

“I’m taking you to brunch, get dressed.” He tries to poke Freddie again, but he grabs Auston’s ankle and holds on, pinning Auston in place while he sips his coffee like he hasn’t completely immobilized Auston with a single touch. He lets go just long enough to pick up the remote. Auston pulls up Skip the Dishes and orders half the menu at Lady Marmalade. 

Stay-in shutout brunch it is. 

The delivery time says that it's going to be an hour, and Auston tells Freddie who lets go of his ankle and drops to the floor to stretch. Auston watches. He's been around guys at the top level of fitness possible his whole life but goalies are just on another level altogether, Auston thinks, watching Freddie drop into a butterfly stretch, leaning forward, legs straight out to the side. 

If Auston tried that he'd need another month to recover. 

Freddie goes from the butterfly stretch into the splits, and then he grabs his roller and starts in on his IT band. He's looking at Auston while he does it, unblinking, like usual. His hair is fluffy, curling and unruly from sleep, and Auston's pretty glad the doorbell goes when it does, because it means their brunch is there, and he can break away from Freddie's gaze to go answer it. 

"Don't eat all the toast!" Freddie calls out after Auston tips the driver and closes the door. 

Auston makes sure he's got half a piece shoved in his mouth when Freddie walks into the kitchen. 

After they eat, Freddie goes to shower and comes out twenty minutes later in nice jeans and a leather jacket that just emphasizes how square his shoulders are. 

"Do we have plans I don't know about?" Auston asks. 

"We don't, but I do," Freddie says. He reaches for his wallet and keys and Auston shoves the last of the breakfast food into the fridge.

*** 

It keeps happening.

Auston's cleared for light skating after a week, which means he skates before the rest of the team, joins them for video review and then meets with the trainers every other day to check how his shoulder is feeling. Usually by that time the rest of the team is coming off the ice, so Auston hangs around in the locker room while they all change and shower. He catches Mitch for lunch, and Patty tags along. Or he finds Zach or Naz or Kappy. 

The point is, Auston is friends with everyone on his team, which doesn't explain why he tries to follow Freddie home most days. He only succeeds half the time. Definitely not on game day. 

The afternoon before the Devils come to town Babs pulls him aside and tells him to pack, he's coming on the trip. Auston puts up a token protest about how he's not anywhere near cleared to play, but Babs doesn't give any reasons or answer any questions, and just sends him home.

*** 

Mo takes his usual spot on the plane next to Auston. He's spent way too much time on instagram the last few days, but that's what he and Mo usually do while waiting for anything to happen on the plane, so he switches over from the game he's playing to instagram.

"You okay, kid?" He asks once everyone has settled in. Mo doesn't have his phone in his hand, which means this is definitely a Serious Conversation. 

"Fuck off, you're like three years older," Auston says. And anyway, he's _fine_. Just bored out of his fucking mind by his stupid shoulder. He hates not having his routines. Injury means a new one, but it's still not quite right. Nothing is right when he's not playing. 

Mo gives him a considering look, then shrugs. "I mean, you're injured and still traveling with us so something must be going on." 

Auston rolls his eyes. Babs totally sold him out. Or Mitch. Or probably Freddie. But most likely Babs, since Mo's got that A on his sweater, and this kind of thing is kind of his job. 

"It just sucks being injured," Auston says. "You know how it is. I want to be practicing with the team. Feels like I'm missing out. I am missing out, I've missed five games." 

He hadn't exactly realized he was counting, but he definitely was. He just wants to get back on the ice already. 

"Just…" Mo sighs, fiddles with his phone and seatbelt, and then finishes his thought. "Just make sure you're okay. And I don't just mean your shoulder." 

"Yeah, cool," Auston says. He's really glad he had instagram open before Mo tried to make Auston talk about his feelings because it's really easy to pull up one of his messages. "Here, what do you think?"

*** 

By the time the plane touches down an hour later, they've all shuffled seats. Auston couldn't get a card game going on such a short flight so he moved to the empty seat next to Freddie. He's leaning on his shoulder and trying not to fall asleep. And he's not the one who played a full game tonight. Freddie's texting someone and not looking up, though he does turn his phone away from Auston's direct gaze when a picture comes in.

Auston wants to poke at him and figure out what Freddie's hiding but he's fucking tired and it's going to have to wait.

*** 

The plane ride to LA fucking sucks. They'd stayed overnight in Boston, but it's hard to let go of a 5-1 loss. Especially in fucking _Boston_ , with the memories of last year's playoff loss still pretty fresh in everyone's mind.

Halfway through, Auston ends up next to Freddie again, and this time they're both wide awake. Also Freddie is definitely angling his phone to where Auston can't see it, so he kicks at Freddie's feet, gently. No good injuring their starting goalie. 

"Something fun on there?" Auston asks. They all know way too much about each other, and that includes what types of messages are waiting in DMs. 

Freddie shrugs. "Just a friend." 

Auston knows that tone. "A friend or someone you want to be _friends_ with?" He puts air quotes around 'friends'. 

He puts his phone away, very deliberately, and turns to Auston, meeting his eyes and demanding he pay attention. 

Well, this is what he wanted, but he's not sure what to do now that he has it. His entire _thing_ is based on the fact that Freddie acts like an aloof asshole, like goalies usually are. Auston knows it's not really the truth, but it's the game they've been playing since halfway through Auston's rookie year. 

Somehow, he still isn't ready to get what he wants, so he's the first one to break.

*** 

They have an afternoon off in LA, so Auston and Mitch go shopping.

"Do you have any idea what you're doing?" Mitch asks as they chow down on sushi, outside, in November. LA isn't Phoenix, but the weather is honestly pretty comparable, and it's fantastic to be able to leave the heavy jackets and scarves in the hotel. 

Auston has no idea what he's asking, so he doesn't answer. Instead, he snatches a rainbow roll off Mitch's plate and stuffs it into his mouth. 

"What the fuck, dude?" Mitch tries to steal one back, but Auston's prepared and fends off the incursion with a few hard pokes to Mitch's knuckles. "Leave my hands alone." 

"Don't steal my food," Auston counters. 

"You stole mine, asshole." 

Auston did, he can't argue. "You deserved it for asking stupid questions." 

Mitch tries again and this time succeeds in getting a piece back when Auston's reaching for his water, food temporarily unguarded. 

"Mo just said to watch out for you," Mitch said. "I'm your BFF, you should tell me when something's up." 

Auston rolls his eyes again. "Nothing's up except my shoulder's stupid and I want to be playing."

*** 

Back at the hotel, they order room service and Patty comes over to watch a shitty movie on TV. They're all piled into one bed, and when Mitch and Patty start arguing over the logistics of a particularly stupid scene, Auston tunes them out. He's warm and happy, but still wants more.

He takes a stupid selfie, getting both of the others in the frame and texts Freddie. _Why is everyone so worried about me suddenly? Can't even watch a movie in my own bed anymore._

The reply is slow to come. _Can't let the pride of Toronto go batshit_ , he says. Finally. 

And it's weird. They're on the same team, but Freddie doesn't normally try to redirect everything to hockey. That's Mo's job. Or now, Tavares. Whatever the fuck his teammates think is going on with him isn't about hockey. 

Mostly. 

_Can I come over?_

He usually doesn't ask, but Freddie's been weird about it lately, so it's probably best just to check. 

_You can but I'm not there. Met up with a friend for dinner, see you tomorrow._

Auston's visited Freddie in LA in the summer; he lives here. Of course he has friends. Of course he can go see them without telling Auston first. He just doesn't like it. 

Last year when they were both injured they'd stuck together, working on recovering while the rest of the team carried on without them for long weeks at a time. 

Maybe it's just that Freddie's not injured this time, but Auston feels the loss of those easy days more than he expected.

*** 

Freddie's one of the last to come down for team breakfast, sneaking in just in time, still looking only half awake. Auston knows he generally doesn't wake up fully until he's had coffee and stretched out, and from the looks of it he's just rolled out of bed. He drops into the seat next to Auston and just stares until Auston gives in and goes to pour him coffee. He brings over a bran muffin too, and just smiles when Freddie realizes what it is and glares at him.

Auston gives him his most obnoxious smile in return, digging into his own eggs.

*** 

The afternoon is spent like any other afternoon would be back home in Toronto; Auston skates separately from the rest of the team, but joins them for the video session. He watches the team skate while he rehabs his shoulder, and then he watches goalie practice. He knows Babs brought him on the trip to keep him out of trouble, but all it means is that he's still bored out of his mind, only in a hotel instead of his own condo.

Mo throws together a dinner and invites half the team for the usual team bonding and credit card roulette at the most expensive restaurant he can book on short notice. JT draws the short straw and signs the bill with a frown, while the rest of them finish their drinks and head for the doors. 

"Do you, uh, think you can find somewhere to be for a while?" Mitch asks. "Steph texted." 

They're two blocks away from the hotel. "You couldn't have said something sooner?" 

Mitch shrugs. "She just texted during dinner, I don't know. She's being weird, but I don't want to talk in public." 

"Just to be clear, you are sexiling me, right? I need the sympathy points if I'm going to talk anyone into letting me in the night before a game." 

Getting Freddie to let him stay for a while, he means. Mitch doesn't need to know that part. Mo would let him in no question, but that's not where Auston wants to be. He doesn't need another bad attempt at a heart to heart tonight. 

"Maybe, I don't know." Auston sees the smile Mitch is hiding so he knows it's definitely true.

Back in the hotel, Auston makes sure to squeeze into Freddie's elevator, and follows him to his door. 

"Your room is down the hall," Freddie points out when Auston stops next to him instead of continuing a few doors down where Mitch is digging his key out of his back pocket. 

"Yeah, he's sexiling me," Auston says. "Can I come in for a while?" 

"I'm kicking you out after an hour. I need to sleep." 

Auston nods, hoping that Mitch is going to be done in an hour. Sometimes he is, sometimes he takes longer.

Inside the room, he strips out of his jeans and steals one of Freddie's shirts from his suitcase while Freddie's brushing his teeth. It's a little bit baggy on Auston. He settles in on Freddie's bed, on top of the covers because he's not a complete asshole. 

Halfway through an episode of Chopped, Auston shivers. Freddie apparently sleeps cold, and has set the air conditioning to full blast. What it means is that since he's sitting on top of the covers, Auston has goosebumps. He rubs at his arms until Freddie pushes him over and attempts to pull the covers out from under him. 

"Jesus you're annoying," he says, but he's actively helping Auston get into the bed. 

"It's only because I love you," Auston says, settling down. It's much warmer under the blankets, and he hunkers down on his side of the king-sized bed. His toes are freezing, so he curls his legs until his feet are almost resting on Freddie's. He gets a kick for his trouble, but that's it, so Auston keeps them where they are. 

The last thing he remembers is the chefs pulling cactus pears out of the basket to make dessert.

*** 

The next time Auston opens his eyes it's the middle of the night. He blinks awake, staring at the ceiling and trying to figure out why this hotel room, which is exactly like almost every other hotel room he's slept in the last three years, feels wrong. His mouth feels gross, and he'd get up to brush his teeth, except that he's really warm and comfortable, and there's a hand on his chest, and a leg thrown over his.

He breathes slowly, remembering that he'd fallen asleep in Freddie's bed. The blackout curtains are drawn, but the hotel alarm clock provides just enough light for Auston to make out Freddie's fluffy hair and square shoulders on the pillow next to him. 

Auston really should go back to his own room, but it's the middle of the night, and if he got up now he'd not only wake Freddie, he'd wake Mitch. And he really doesn't want his two favorite people on the team to be pissed off at him on a game day. A game he's not even playing in. 

As he works on keeping his breathing steady, Freddie's hand tightens and he shifts, moving closer. He's a furnace, but Auston bends his knee and turns towards him, settling into the soft mattress even more. He reaches up and holds onto Freddie's arm to keep him there, and drifts back to sleep easily.

*** 

Freddie wakes up first, and then wakes Auston up by untangling himself and climbing out of bed. They've got a few hours until morning skate, but there's breakfast and video review before they hit the ice. Still, Auston doesn't get up until Freddie finishes brushing his teeth.

"Some hour," Freddie says. 

He's still got a bit of toothpaste at the corner of his mouth, and Auston weighs his desire to stick around in Freddie's bed against the sudden urge to reach out and wipe it away. Freddie still looks sleep-rumpled and fluffy, and his lips are plump and inviting, and Auston vaguely wonders what he needs to do to score that invite. 

Okay, yeah, he should probably get out of here. 

"Sorry," Auston rolls out of bed and grabs his jeans and hoodie, not bothering to put them on to go down the hall. "Didn't mean to fall asleep." 

He doesn't mention waking up and deciding to stay.

*** 

Mitch is just waking up, scrolling through his phone when Auston walks in. He gives Auston a funny look, probably because the shirt he's wearing has a 31 clearly printed on the chest, but at least he doesn't say anything.

*** 

Auston watches from the press box as they annihilate the Kings, 5-1. Auston has always loved watching Freddie work; watching him use every inch of his reach to keep the puck out of the net, frustrating their opponents as he stretches and gets a toe on the puck before it can cross the line into the net.

But tonight it's different. Every time he drops into the butterfly, Auston sees flashes of Freddie stretching on the floor, shorts tight around his thighs and riding up just enough to show the pale skin above his knees. When he snatches the puck out of midair, Auston remembers that hand on his chest, large and warm. 

When Mitch goes in for a hug instead of just a fistbump like everyone else on the team, Auston burns. That should be _him_. 

Auston sits at the back of the plane and avoids everyone on the short flight up to San Jose.

*** 

The plane home from California is joyous; they've swept the state. Auston hates that he wasn't a part of the actual games, but he's still a part of the team, and they won three in a row on the road. There's a lot of shouting for the first hour of the flight. Auston talks Patty and Mitch into a round of euchre. "One round only," Patty had said. Sometimes Auston can get away with a few more, but he and Mitch hold firm, so Auston packs up his cards and finds Freddie reading with his headphones in.

His extra seat is empty, and there aren't any bags in sight so Auston drops into it and gets comfortable, leaning on Freddie's shoulder as he tries to settle in for the rest of the flight. 

"You'll kill your neck too," he says, but doesn't make any move to shove Auston away. 

"You're a terrible pillow," Auston says, and doesn't move.

*** 

Auston orders a mountain of Thai food and heads over to Freddie's on Sunday night.

"Tell me you don't have plans," Auston says when Freddie opens the door. "I brought dinner." 

He's not wearing shoes, just shorts and a hoodie, and the heat in his apartment is cranked up high enough that Auston can feel the blast of warm air when he steps inside. 

"It's common courtesy to call before you turn up at someone's door," Freddie says. Auston pushes his way past Freddie and sets his bags down in the kitchen. At least he's not getting turned away this time. He never knows anymore, and he's been slowly going crazy wondering what the fuck. 

Freddie pulls out silverware and digs into the pad thai. Auston declares victory and makes a plate for himself. 

They watch more Blue Planet, which is super boring to listen to, but really gorgeous to watch, and Auston gets drawn in, leaving his phone in his pocket. 

Eventually, Freddie clears the dishes and comes back into the living room, but instead of taking his spot on the couch, he drops to the floor and starts stretching. Auston tries to keep watching the TV. He even pulls out his phone again to see what's going on in his DMs, but nothing in there really provides enough distraction from Freddie, on the floor, leaning forward on his elbows, one leg bent in front with his shorts riding up. 

Auston reaches over and grabs the remote to change the channel, and to give him something else to focus on. 

Freddie glares and flips him off when he lands on some version of Real Housewives and leaves it there. Auston quickly realizes his mistake when he realizes he has no idea who any of the people are, or what is happening. His focus still keeps shifting to Freddie. He still doesn't change the channel or turn it off; he's not giving up that easily. 

"I'm going to bed," Freddie announces when he's done stretching. The implication is clear: it's time for Auston to go home. 

Instead, Auston retrieves his toothbrush from the guest room, barges into Freddie's bathroom and starts brushing his teeth. Freddie moves around him in his usual routine, and Auston puts himself in his way as much as possible. He starts by standing in front of the closet where he knows Freddie keeps his laundry hamper, which means that Freddie is halfway through stripping out of his t-shirt and hoodie when he checks Auston out of the way. 

Auston moves to the door of the bathroom, forcing Freddie to move him again to get access to his sink and his own toothbrush. Auston's holding the toothpaste, and Freddie grabs his arm to take it away. His entire hand wraps around Auston's wrist, easily; Auston is very glad he's leaning on the counter. 

Freddie shoves him out of the bathroom and closes the door, and Auston takes the opportunity to quickly shed his clothes down to his boxers and the shirt he'd stolen from Freddie in LA. He climbs into bed on Freddie's side, sets his phone on the charge pad and gets comfortable. 

When he comes out of the bathroom, Freddie takes one look at Auston on his side of the bed and sighs, heavy enough that Auston can see the rise and fall of his shoulders, the way his shirt stretches around his chest. Auston's mouth goes dry. 

He really should get up and leave, but he settles in more, pulling the duvet up to his chest and locking eyes with Freddie, daring him to take the next step. 

The next step is apparently grabbing Auston's hands and trying to pull him out of bed. Freddie's strong, but Auston knows how to work this. He plays hockey, he knows how to brace his weight to make the other person fall over, and this situation is in his advantage: Freddie's standing up and Auston's not, which means that as hard as Freddie tries to pull, he can't get Auston to move more than a few inches. As he stops to gather himself for a second try, Auston makes his move and pulls Freddie down onto the bed, until he's sprawled on top of Auston. He wraps his arms around Freddie's shoulders and holds on. 

Their position is all wrong, but his weight feels good on top of Auston and as Freddie wrestles him, Auston's legs fall open and Freddie's thigh lands between them, pressing down on his dick, which is definitely very interested, and more than halfway to fully hard. 

Freddie freezes, and Auston knows this is the limit, the line where Auston can smile and push Freddie away, pretend it's all bros and go on with their lives. Auston will drive home and do his best to forget about this and figure out how to be Freddie's friend without pushing any more boundaries. 

One of them should probably take the out. 

Instead, he's frozen in place, eyes wide, breathing heavily. Freddie locks eyes with Auston, and rocks himself forward, pressing Auston even more into the mattress. 

"Oh yeah?" Freddie says. He's barely audible, talking directly into Auston's ear. Almost a growl. "Do you have any idea what you're asking for?" 

Auston frees one of his hands from where Freddie's holding it and braces himself against the mattress so he can lean up and catch Freddie's lips in a kiss. It's the first time they've done this, but there's no hesitation. Once Auston makes contact, Freddie leans into it, catching Auston's lips with his and then pressing him down, releasing Auston's wrists so that he can move Auston's head where he wants it. Auston relaxes and opens his mouth, letting Freddie control this part. 

He's got what he wants, for now. 

Freddie kisses easily, knowing just how to use his tongue to drive Auston wild. He has to grab onto Freddie's shoulder and hold on, or he's going to melt completely. He wants to wrap his legs around Freddie, hold him there, too, but the duvet is still between them. 

Instead, he digs his hand up under Freddie's shirt, feeling the way his muscles move under the skin. It's not nearly enough skin, so Auston switches tactics and reaches for Freddie's thigh instead. He's completely pinned, doesn't want to move; unless it's even closer to Freddie. 

"Fuck, you've been driving me crazy," Freddie says. He bites at Auston's neck, just below his jaw and Auston goes weak. The pain from his teeth lights up Auston's skin, all the way down to his dick, which is definitely now rock hard. Auston bucks his hips up to get some more pressure, to get a tiny bit of friction. He doesn't manage much before Freddie's got him pinned again. "Tell me what you want." 

Auston tries to kiss him again, but between the blankets and Freddie's body, he's trapped. "I want you," he says. "I've been going fucking nuts since LA." 

Freddie lets out a low laugh. "Only since LA?" 

He wants to say yes, but that would definitely be a lie. He's been competing for Freddie's attention for years now. Waking up with Freddie wrapped around him had just made everything sharper, brighter, more urgent. 

"No," he breathes out. "Fuck, Freddie, I feel like I've wanted this forever." 

When Freddie kisses him this time it's gentle, slow, and burning hot. Auston can feel how plush his lips are, knows he wants to feel them everywhere. He can't help the groan that escapes, or the way his fingers dig into Freddie's skin. 

He lets go and pushes at the covers. "Get under here with me, Fred." 

Freddie doesn't follow orders. He does roll off Auston and pull the blankets down, but then he quickly strips off his clothing and looks at Auston until he does the same. _Fuck_ , Auston thinks as Freddie strips off his boxers, too.

He's big. _Everywhere_. Freddie is pale and freckled under his clothes; his muscles are sculpted, rippling under his skin as he settles on the bed next to Auston. And his dick is just as big as the rest of him, straining up towards his abs. Auston swallows, and then reaches out to feel him. 

Auston watches his own hand as he wraps his fingers around Freddie's dick and gives it a slow stroke. Freddie throws his head back, exposing his neck, and Auston has to touch that too, with his lips this time. He goes for the spot Freddie found on him, and smiles into Freddie's skin when it works. 

He licks his hand and reaches for Freddie's cock again. "This good?" 

Freddie lets his legs fall even more open, his hips pushing into each stroke, and it isn't long before his entire body tenses up and he comes, spilling over Auston's hand and panting into his neck. 

Auston keeps going, slowing slightly as Freddie's dick gets soft, teasing him as he comes down until Freddie has to grab Auston's hand and literally pull it away from his dick. 

"Ugh. Your hand is covered in jizz." 

"Yeah," Auston agrees easily. "It's yours." 

He kisses Freddie again, lying half on top of him. He's so fucking turned on right now that he can't help the little thrusts he's making against Freddie's thigh. 

"What do you want?" He kisses Auston again, so it takes Auston a minute to answer. 

He bites at Freddie's mouth to make him open up, and suddenly he knows exactly what he wants. 

"Blow me," Auston says. "Put your mouth on my dick." 

Freddie laughs, low and rumbling. Auston can feel it as much as he can hear it, and his dick pulses. 

He lets Freddie roll him onto his back, getting comfortable while Freddie moves down so that his face is level with Auston's dick. He sucks in a breath, and makes sure to keep his eyes open because he doesn't want to miss a single minute of this. Freddie takes a minute to settle comfortably, pulls Auston's leg up over his shoulder, and then moves in. 

He licks up the underside of Auston's dick, teases the head with his tongue, and then closes his mouth around Auston and slides down until he's swallowing, and Auston feels like he might have actually died. 

"Jesus, Fred." He can barely form words; Freddie's stolen his ability to move and talk and breathe. He comes back up and closes a hand around Auston's dick, stroking him. He grins, and then does it again. 

Auston needs a shift change, the way his legs are feeling; heavy and weak. His entire body is lit up, heat radiating through him from Freddie's mouth. Then Freddie shifts his legs higher and reaches down to roll Auston's balls in his hands. To press his fingers against his hole, and Auston's arousal kicks up another notch. He's actually on fire. 

Freddie swallows him down again, and that's it. Auston comes with a shout, knees coming up and curling around Freddie's shoulders, as he continues to suck with long slow strokes. 

God, payback's a bitch. In the best way. 

When Freddie finally releases him, he crawls back up to collapse on top of Auston. The covers are thrown back, so this time Auston _can_ hook a leg behind Freddie's and hold him close and kiss him until they're both breathless again.

*** 

Auston wakes up with Freddie wrapped around him again, big and warm against his back. He's sweating, and probably sticking to Freddie in weird places, but right now nothing hurts.

This time, he can stay where he is. Can turn in Freddie's arms and kiss him awake. Can hold on and drift back to sleep thinking of nothing but the next time he gets to do this.

*** 

Game day means morning skate, which means Auston definitely needs to go home and grab his bag before heading into the arena.

Freddie walks him to the door, but before he opens it, Auston pulls him in for a kiss, and Freddie responds by pinning him to the door. He definitely wants to stay here for much, much longer. He digs his hands up under Freddie's hoodie. 

He breaks apart and nuzzles at Auston's neck. Freddie's two day stubble is scraping the sensitive skin under his jaw just right, and Auston can't fucking believe he's allowed to do this now. 

"Don't you have your own place?" He doesn't let go, though. He pulls Auston tighter, his hands warm where they've landed on Auston's hips. 

"You don't have to send me home," Auston says. "Last time we slept together you won." 

"Last time we slept together we didn't fuck," Freddie says. "Do you really want to make that call? If we lose tonight it means we never do that again." 

Auston pauses, horrified at the idea. "Oh shit. What if we pretend I never said anything." 

Freddie kisses him again, slow and deep, leaving Auston breathless. Jesus, he needs to work on his conditioning. 

"Go home," Freddie says. "I'll see you at practice."

*** 

Doing media sucks, but Auston's pretty used to it by now. He answers about five variations of the same questions, about being injured, about coming back, about Willy.

"How's your comfort level with your shot?" 

Auston shrugs. "I don't know. Felt good today. I don't know, maybe Freddie was giving me a couple during the warmups but I think everything just comes back over time." 

He finishes with the press and goes to shower and change, and finds Freddie waiting for him in his stall. 

"I gave you a few?"

Auston grins, and then strips off his shirt. They've got the rest of the team walking in and out of the room so there's not much Auston can do to really keep Freddie's attention, but he's going to try anyway. Talking shit to the media always seems to do it. 

Also, the stripping is helping his cause. He glances up and Freddie's leaning back, watching. 

"You busy this afternoon?" Auston asks, when it becomes clear that Freddie isn't actually going to say anything else. 

Freddie looks around, and then very slowly drags his gaze down Auston's chest and back up again. Auston can feel his dick waking up, and this is so not the place for that. 

"Maybe."

Auston shrugs, grinning. "Maybe I'll just go home, then." 

Freddie stands, crowding in close enough for Auston to feel his heat, to fight the need to grab hold of his shoulders. "Come over." 

"I thought you had plans." 

He leans in even further, just for a moment, and speaks directly into Auston's ear. 

"We do." His stubble drags across Auston's jaw, making him shiver. 

Auston grins, and turns his head so that he's tantalizingly close to being able to kiss Freddie. "Only if you let me score on you again."

_fin._

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Years & Years Meteorite, as the lyrics are "hit me like a meteorite", which is _exactly_ what Auston wants Freddie to do.
> 
> Auston and Freddie flirting via media is somehow a real thing, and the one mentioned at the end, with Auston coming back from his recent injury is from [here](https://youtu.be/umcMYQGJugw?t=197).


End file.
